Nigel Westlake: Pragmatism and paper planes

Nigel Westlake talks about his composing and his recent
large-scale works: Missa Solis - Requiem for Eli, song
cycle Compassion, and film score Paper
Planes. The long-term APRA Board member and outgoing AMC
Chair also touches on the rich array of music created in
today's Australia, and the challenges and opportunities faced
by our artists.

A new work Dream of Flying, commissioned by the BBC,
is about to be premiered by Melbourne Symphony Orchestra and
Sir Andrew Davis on
13 April. Reworking elements of the Paper Planes
score, the central section depicts a paper plane's journey
through the air: 'a metaphor for life, perhaps, evincing the
way we are all subject to forces beyond our control'.

Anni Heino: Over the past few years, you've been
involved with several large-scale projects, including the 2010
work, Missa Solis - Requiem for Eli, and the orchestral
song cycle
Compassion (2013), composed in collaboration with Lior
(who was also the soloist), as well as the film score for
Paper Planes (2014). Are you continuing to paint on a
large, orchestral canvas and is this where you're increasingly
headed as a composer? Do you have smaller-scale projects in the
pipeline? I'm asking, in part, because I was just recently
talking to someone who was hoping to hear a another Piano Sonata
some time soon, and I imagine percussionists and guitarists are
particularly hoping that you won't 'abandon them', as it were.

Nigel Westlake: I love writing those smaller,
intimate works and certainly have no intention of abandoning
close working relationships with my piano, guitar and percussion
colleagues. Over the coming months, in addition to planning some
more chamber ensemble works, I also have a couple of symphonic
commissions and a film score - to be confirmed! - to complete.

The Requiem was forged through personal tragedy and,
with intense grief at its heart, was something that demanded a
larger form as an outlet for that anguish. This process has
acclimatised me to the idea of working on a larger scale so, in a
sense, it was the Requiem that paved the way for the
Compassion song cycle.

Orchestral film scores are not a common occurrence in locally
made films for various reasons, but I love the depth and
emotional engagement of a symphonic score in the right context,
and it's always gratifying to engage with a director who sees
music as a priority, and is willing to allocate appropriate
resources to the task.

Music is one of the last things to happen on a movie, so
everyone, including the director, producers, sometimes even
distributors, have their eyes fairly and squarely focused on the
music as the film reaches the pointy end of production.
Trying to be creative whilst managing all this disparate
commentary can be a tricky business, and I really admire
composers who are resilient enough to sustain an ongoing career
in an industry that has the potential to be brutal with one's
work.
Happily though, my experience on Paper Planes was not at
all like this. Director Robert Connelly was very clear about
wanting a big, lush, traditional sounding score for
Planes, and it was a joy to work with him on that
project. I don't work on many films, but I'm pretty excited when
the right project presents itself.

AH: Thinking of these three works - they've all
been well received by the general public as well as reviewers,
and won awards. You've also been quite involved in performances
as a conductor. Some time has now passed since the completion of
Missa Solis and Compassion - how do you hear
and think of these works now, from your own, private composer's
perspective? Do you move on quickly from such big projects, or do
they continue to feed into other works? And how important is
public recognition to an established composer?

NW: I am very proud of these works and
enormously grateful they were so well received. I am also very
happy when they manage to live on and receive further
performances. Even though conducting the Requiem was
such a cathartic and emotional journey, it was an enormous
privilege to be able to share that experience with so many.

I rarely listen to anything after I've written it (unless I
happen to be conducting), but hopefully every new work is a
voyage of discovery and the process of developing and refining
ideas for each piece assists to hone one's craft and open up new
creative doors and ways of thinking.

Connection with audience and emotional engagement is a
consideration whenever I am writing music. I am hopeful that if I
can write something that resonates with my own aesthetic and gets
my dopamine flowing, then perhaps others will find a connection.
After all, if a member of the listening public is prepared to
offer their precious time and focus of attention, then I believe
we as composers have an obligation to at least attempt to honour
that gift with work of creative fascination and emotional
engagement.

The loss of my son Eli helped me to realise that without empathy,
compassion and love, our lives are meaningless. If we have the
capacity to integrate these concepts into our work, we stand a
better chance of creating music that may be of relevance to the
human condition and hopefully offer a spiritual connection on one
level or another. At least this is what I was hoping to achieve
through some of the more recent works such as the
Requiem and Compassion.

AH: You started out as a self-taught composer
and are now widely respected as a professional who knows his
craft. Yet I understand you went to Richard
Meale, not that many years ago, to find out more about
orchestration. Why was that? Can you reflect on your own journey
of becoming a composer and learning your craft? Do you feel you
still have things to learn and areas you'd like to work on?

NW: I call myself self-taught because I have
never had any formal training in composition, but I have received
invaluable guidance and mentorship from so many. Richard Gill,
Richard Meale, Theo Leovendie, Richard Mills, Bill Motzing, Peter
Sculthorpe, my parents and my wife Janice have all been important
figures in my compositional and musical development, and I am
immensely humbled by the feedback and wisdom these special people
have so generously shared with me. Composition is a constantly
evolving voyage of discovery and growth. Most days I feel
overwhelmed by my inadequacies and the amount of learning to be
done, and I don't think any artist ever feels they have absorbed
all there is to know.

But composing was never part of the grand plan. From an early age
I always assumed I would be following my father into the clarinet
chair of an orchestra somewhere, and the idea of becoming a
composer never occurred to me. In those early days of studying
the clarinet with my dad and playing various freelance gigs,
mucking around with composition was just another way to get to
know music better. I imagined that by discovering how notes are
put together, it might somehow help to bring a deeper
understanding of music to my clarinet playing. It wasn't until I
wrote a small collection of very naive pieces and formed a band
to perform them that (much to my surprise), my world began to
open up to the possibility of writing music as something other
than a casual past time. It was around the early 1990s that I
began to receive some very exciting composition opportunities and
the clarinet started to take a back seat as I began to focus more
on writing.

My time with Richard Meale in 1993 was a deliberate attempt to
hone my technique and embrace the writing process more
deliberately. Richard invited me to visit him at his rainforest
house near Mullumbimby. I spent some six weeks living close by
and would drop in to visit him about once a week. Such was his
passion and enthusiasm that our 'lessons' were never less than
8-10 hours long. He made one feel that there was nothing else
more important in the world than what we were discussing at a
particular point in time, whether that revolved around
overarching concepts concerning musical philosophy or the
micromanagement of notes on the page. I shall never forget his
abundant generosity and genuine encouragement of my work.

Some of my most valuable lessons have been learnt on the job -
working with musicians, taking their feedback on board, hearing
pieces come to life and working out how ideas might have been
better managed. Recording film scores can also be a revealing and
instructive exercise. Scores have to be written so quickly, and
within days you are in the studio, documenting them for
perpetuity. This sort of pressure is very good for focusing the
mind.

AH: Your long-term involvement with APRA as a
Board member and a slightly shorter term as the Chair of the AMC
Board have given you a lot of insight into the workings of the
art industry as a whole. What is your view of the future of your
own art form in Australia - where is it headed, what developments
are you excited by, and is there a lot of cause for concern?

NW: I feel I have lived through a time of
relative abundance on the back of the Whitlam era, the Australia
Council and 10BA film funding. In contrast, my parents,
also musicians, thought the only way to earn a living for a
musician was to join an orchestra.
Things have changed substantially in my lifetime thus far, and I
am deeply concerned by the recent cuts to the Australia Council,
an act that has the potential to decimate the foundation of
Australia's artistic community.

Even on the back of the most meagre resources, careers have the
capacity to rise and flourish, and if our aspiring and talented
creators are given some financial encouragement, they will often
find a way to make things work. But to savage this precious
resource to the extent where only a paltry percentage of
applicants have any hope of success does not bode well for the
future of arts in Australia.

On the bright side, I am happy to see a steady growth in music
philanthropy and we composers are certainly blessed to be
surrounded by such a strong base of excellently trained and
committed instrumentalists who are genuinely passionate about
Australian new music.

On those rare occasions when I am given the opportunity to
conduct my own works, the sense of allegiance, love and embrace I
feel from the musicians in the orchestras around Australia is
deeply overwhelming and awe-inspiring.

My exposure to other musical genres from working on the APRA
Board has also been something of a revelation. There are so many
people out there, making so much music, in so many different
ways. I think we all have a lot to learn from each other.

AH: Why has it been important for you to give
your time to this kind of work for the music community - largely
volunteer-based and presumably not exactly thrilling work?

NW: The AMC and APRA have both played a
significant role in my creative pursuits and helped to facilitate
my survival as a freelance composer, and there comes a time in
life where one feels compelled to give back. When I formed an
ensemble to play all original music back in 1978, our first
concerts were at the AMC's original premises at The Rocks. Those
events were pivotal to my desire to continue to experiment with
original music.

In 2008 my election onto the APRA Board provided me with a
completely fresh insight and appreciation of APRA's important
work in supporting the music industry. Even though the vast bulk
of APRA's revenue is generated by the commercially driven genres
of pop and screen music, APRA is strongly committed to acting in
the interests of all their members, regardless of the potential
or otherwise to generate substantial royalties.

The benevolence of APRA toward the Art Music sector is strongly
evidenced not only through their support of the Art Music Awards
and the recently announced Art Music Commissioning fund, but also
in their unquestioning backing of the AMC at a time of critical
significance in the AMC's 40 year history.

In 2010 the AMC was undergoing a period of financial crisis and
was forced to undergo significant restructuring. At the
suggestion of APRA AMCOS CEO Brett Cottle, and with the full
backing of the APRA board, the AMC was thrown a lifeline by APRA
in the form of a new premises, access to important APRA resources
and staff, as well as financial support. It was at this time that
the AMC governance structure was remodeled, the Board was
reconstituted, and I was appointed to the AMC chair.

The AMC Board has spent the past six years battling the
ever-present spectre of insolvency and closure, but together with
CEO John Davis and the extraordinary diligence of the AMC's lean
and passionate staff, the AMC has managed to continue its
important work, and reverse the organisation's deficit position
in 2011 to achieve a more sustainable position in 2015, with some
modest reserves.

With some dynamic new additions to the Board this year, and the
appointment of Genevieve Lacey to the chair, I now feel very
confident that the organisation is well placed to maximise its
opportunities and enter a new phase of flourishing productivity.
Having now completed my six-year term on the AMC Board, I am
stepping down (a requirement of the constitution). However I am
very pleased to continue to attend AMC Board meetings as an
observer, at the invitation of the board. It has been
particularly exciting for me to see the new board embrace the
challenges ahead with such optimism and creativity and to bring
such diversity and breadth of experience to the task. I am
genuinely optimistic about the AMC's future and I am looking
forward to offering my support to this incredible organisation in
whatever form this may take.

AH: What do you see as the greatest challenges
for composers today? And for performers of new music? What is
your advice for young people trying to carve out their careers in
the arts in today's Australia?

NW: My own career path has been anything but
conventional, so it's difficult to be able to recommend a clear
strategy for success, although I am more than happy to share a
few thoughts -

Take control of your destiny. Don't
expect anyone to sign you up and champion your work. Embolden
yourself by taking control of your own destiny.

I began by writing music for my friends and me to perform. We
were in control of what, where, when and how we played. I'm not
saying we were great, but it was an empowering time of
experimentation, creativity and learning by trial and error. It
also got the music 'out there' to a listening audience, which
opened up possibilities for further collaborations and
invitations.

Diversify.

At heart I am a pragmatist. I love the idea that music not only
has the capacity to transport us to the sphere of celestial
ecstasy, but can also function for practical purpose. My own path
has involved a breadth of diverse and fascinating experiences in
radio, theatre, circus, documentary, jazz rock, feature film,
commercial TV, Imax film, contemporary dance, electronic hip-hop,
installation, ethno fusion, massive public spectacles, intimate
chamber music and symphony. This diversification is the only way
I have managed to sustain a full-time career in composition and,
frankly, I wouldn't have had it any other way!

Fan the
flame.

The drive, diligence, perseverance and passion required to forge
a full-time career has to be relentless. Buckle up! It's gonna
take all you've got, and then some.

Would you pay to hear it?

Seriously - would you pay money to hear your own work? If not,
then why would anyone else?

Make sure you are very content in your own
company.

After all, you will spend 99% of your working life alone. That is
the nature of writing music.

Be gracious in your business dealings.

The music world is a small, tightly knit community and people
have very long memories.

Is that piece finished?

Have you done everything you can think of to make your music as
good as it can be? Is it playable? Does the form have logic?
There is no shortage of half-baked ideas out there. Why add to
the stockpile?

Learn to be self-reliant, and
versatile.

Don't blame others when stuff doesn't work, and try everything at
least once, no matter how weird the project. You never know, you
might surprise yourself.

And last but not least……. Stay honest & true to
yourself.

Richard Meale always used to say there are two types of music -
good and bad. Make sure you always write the good stuff!